


Age of Consent

by soloproject



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Age Regression/De-Aging, Crack, Gen, Humor, Kid Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-11
Updated: 2013-03-10
Packaged: 2017-12-04 22:48:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/715960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soloproject/pseuds/soloproject
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kidfic, in which Arthur regresses in age and no one knows how to deal with him, except to deal. Humor/Gen to PG.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Age of Consent by New Order: I'm not the kind that likes to tell you / Just what you want me to / You're not the kind that needs to tell me / About the birds and the bees.
> 
> Originally posted here: http://midnight-city.livejournal.com/70291.html

There are days when Arthur is simply _unbearable_ and even though Merlin is his servant and bound to cater to his every whim, those are the days when he wished he didn’t push Arthur out of the path of Mary Collins’ hurtling blade.

The force would have split Arthur’s head straight down the middle like a banana and heaven forbid they’d have to hold a closed casket funeral for Camelot’s Shining Star.

 _Shining prat, more like_ , Merlin sulked while he staggered under a load of laundry so immense he was sure he’d be oiling his joints with camphor later in his room. _I saved his life. I should get a parade_ , he thought viciously before he dumped the load into a large wooden tub for the castle laundresses to get at.

It was the height of winter in Camelot and ice caked the ground. Despite the bitterness of the weather, Arthur still woke up at the crack of dawn and went down to meet his company of knights to go through the usual drills. Months ago, Merlin would have rolled his eyes at this display of machismo. But that was back in the summer, when the knights took short breaks and pulled off their tunics, muscles gleaming under the sun. The usual stretch and flex happened for all who watched and then it was back to work, the swing of maces and the clashing of blades ringing through the training grounds.

Arthur was, actually, never one for the Stretch and Flex. Sure, he shucked off his tunic as soon as the sun rose high enough and he was an utter joy to look at it—tanned in the summer, his blond hair bleached lighter by the sun. But Arthur was almost always rather businesslike during training—he laughed and joked around with the rest of them but in the end, he snatched the waterskin from Merlin’s hands, drank and returned to run harder and push faster than all of his knights combined.

Now it was winter and the daily exercise is met with grim determination. Arthur barked his orders and tried not to shiver in the cold. Whatever stock of sympathy and leniency of character Merlin has to give him is running low. Even when the bell tolled at midmorning, it was still overcast and frozen and there is no Stretch and Flex, just Grouching and Grumbling. Arthur became increasingly short-tempered and Merlin just can’t forgive him on account of his winter-pale face, adorably pinked by the cold around the end of his nose and high on his cheeks and the blond hair that he’s allowed to grow to cover the back of his neck. His knights go through the same exercises only this time they are encumbered with extra padding. There are some hilarious instances where they wobble about and crash into each other and at least once where Gaius has had to steam hands off the surface of a shield, stuck fast with frost, while the other knights stood around awkwardly and tried not to look squeamish when poor Berwald’s skin peeled right off his palms.

To make things worse, winter revealed to Merlin a trait in Arthur that he could do without: complete and utter restlessness. Within the dank walls of the castle, Merlin has to put up with Arthur’s constant finger-drumming and foot tapping. Arthur changed his mind constantly and didn’t the blue tunic but the purple and for goodness sake, not these boots, _those._

The worst was when Arthur paced the corridors like a young lion. Everyone scrambled out of his way but he ignored him all and once in a while, paused to look out the window, longingly.

At first, Merlin followed Arthur around while he paced, assuming the Prince has some place to go but he stopped when he realized it was useless. He relented to stand off to the side and watch Arthur as he strode back and forth, his hands behind his back and his face crumpled in thought.

One day Merlin had had _enough._

“Sire…sire,” Merlin coughed to get his attention and was ignored. “Sire…Arthur, for god’s sake, will you stop?” He hissed. “You’re wound up tighter than a lady’s loom.”

Arthur glared at him. “I’m bored,” he said and visibly deflated.

 _“Really,_ ” Merlin sniffed.

Arthur’s jaw dropped. “You can’t talk to me like that!” He stamped his foot for emphasis and balled his fists at his sides.

Merlin laughed. “Arthur…”

Arthur’s face twisted in a hilarious parody of one who might have been told he couldn’t have another sweet or it was time to go to bed “because I said so” when Morgana swept by, Gwen in her wake. Arthur and Merlin straightened and tried to look casual, tilting their heads in acknowledgement while Morgana shot Arthur a snooty look of suspicion before she walked away. Gwen paused long enough to make a face at Merlin who, betrayed by a lack of self-control or perhaps castle fever, fought the laughter threatening to bubble out of his throat and lost miserably.

“Are you laughing at me? Don’t laugh at me!” Arthur glared and turned to away to his rooms, missed a step and tripped but caught himself in time. Merlin was beside himself at this point, shoulders shaking with laughter as he followed Arthur into his room and collapsed against the door.

“I could have you beheaded!” Arthur threatened but he seemed unable to summon up the appropriate amount of rage and tripped about his room in a tizzy. “Or I could just kill you myself—where’s my bloody dagger?” He shed his outer robe and tried to pull his tunic over his head, getting tangled in the process. “It’s freezing,” he whined, his hair sticking out every which way when Merlin came over to help him out of it. Arthur sat on the edge of his bed, looking absolutely forlorn.

“Stop being a child,” Merlin scolded. He doctored the fire until it brightened and warmed the room. “I’ll bring you some wine and you can drink yourself to oblivion, how about it?”

“You would make a terrible nanny, anyway.”

“I beg your pardon. Children _love_ me.” Merlin sniffed and fetched a decanter of wine from a cabinet and poured Arthur a generous cupful.

“And I’ll have you know I was tremendously charming little boy,” Arthur’s eyes shined wickedly over the edge of his cup.

“I’m sure you were,” Merlin said dryly, refilling Arthur’s cup when he held it out.

\--

 

Merlin’s eyes flew open at the crack of dawn.

On any other day, he loathed rising from bed at this hour but Arthur was ingratiatingly early to rise on most days. Merlin learned quite early on that it was better not to tempt Royal Pratliness.

But there was definitely something different about today. Something that niggled at the back of his head, different from all the times that infernal dragon tempted him out of bed with his vague meanderings about coins and fates and destinies.

Merlin hurried to get dressed and hopped across the room while trying to shove his feet into his boots. He shrieked a little at the intruding draft when he opened the door into the workshop but managed to stumble through without (much) damage and ran all the way to Arthur’s room, while dodging grumpy servants and even grumpier night watchmen.

“Sire?” Merlin asked, as he cracked open Arthur’s door. Normally, Arthur would already be standing in front of the fire, waiting for breakfast. There was no one there.

“Arthur?” Merlin looked around and drew back one of the bed curtains to reveal a lump under the furry covers. He rubbed his eyes and squinted at it, drawing the curtains back for more light. The lumped moved but it was decidedly smaller and not at all Prince Arthur-shaped. Merlin prayed it wasn’t some petite strumpet that had strayed into his room after Merlin had retired but there was nothing in the room to indicate that.

Tentative, he pulled back the coverlet.

“Arthur?” Merlin said and felt his mouth go dry.

“Go ‘way,” a high little voice said and tried to yank the covers from Merlin’s grasp and rolled over. “Leave me ‘lone,” it mumbled and then sleepily opened its eyes—deeply blue and completely unmistakable.

Merlin collapsed to sit on the edge of his bed. “Prince Arthur?” He asked as the blood drained from his face.

“Who are you?” The child sat up and good lord, he was _tiny_ , his chubby little hand just curled up to rub his eyes while he looked at him petulantly. He dropped his hand and took one look at the distinctively bear-shaped skin that Arthur—grown-up Arthur—used as a heavy blanket and burst into tears.

“This ithn’t my room!” The prince wailed and Merlin snapped into attention, turning to hide his eyes and use the prince’s preoccupation to magically bolt the door and muffle the sound, just in case.

“Oh fu--,” Merlin clapped a hand over his mouth. “I mean, oh my lord, I’m so sorry I laughed at you yesterday.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted here: http://midnight-city.livejournal.com/70413.html

It took a whole hour for Merlin to placate the little prince and the next hour was spent staring at the other—Arthur on the edge of the bed while Merlin sat on a stool and steepled his fingers in front of his face.

Prince Arthur’s face was blotched from crying and his hair curled around his shoulders. He was still wearing a sleep shirt, oversized and it had slipped down one shoulder. He hiccupped. Merlin groaned.

“Oh my god, I’m dead.” He rubbed his face and then carefully peeked through his fingers, hoping this was just a bad dream.

Little Arthur stared at him and his chubby little hand in his mouth where he glumly chewed it.

“What’s your name?” Merlin asked.

“Arthur,” –he pronounced it _Arfur_ , which made Merlin’s traitorous heart clench at the utter adorableness of it all. “And I am the prince of Camelot. My father is King _UFER_ —“

Merlin stuffed his fist into his mouth to keep from laughing. Arthur continued, full of childish snobbery. “—and I’m to be king _th_ omeday.”

Baby Arthur had a lisp, no doubt bullied out of him by vigilant tutors. Merlin filed this bit of knowledge away.

“How…how old are you?”

“ _Thwee._ ” Arthur held up three fingers. “I’m hungry.” He said and turned his nose up in such an achingly familiar way that Merlin just about melted off his perch. “Who are you anyway? Where’s _Marfa_?!” The little prince demanded, legs swinging against the mattress.

“I’m…Marfa, I mean, Martha isn’t here. And--” How could one inform the little prince that he was Merlin, manservant to the Once and Future King? “I’m your nanny now. My name is Merlin.”

Arthur looked suspicious. “You don’t look like a nanny.”

“Well, I’m more like your bodyguard, in a sense—”

“You don’t look very _th_ wong.” Arthur interrupted.

 _Good god,_ Merlin thought. _He was born a prat!_

“Alright, well. Your highness, I will bring you breakfast but you have to promise me something.”

Arthur stared. Merlin sighed and continued. “ _You cannot leave this room_. I will be back as soon as I can but you _cannot_ , under any circumstance, leave this room or talk to anyone. Is that clear? It would be trouble for all.” _Myself, none withstanding_ , Merlin added mentally.

Arthur crossed his chubby little arms over his chest in petulance. “I want cake for breakfu _th_ ’,” he demanded. Merlin paused, his hand on the door. “And I want milk and bacon and candy.” He added, kicking his legs against the wood of the bed frame.

“I’ll get you whatever you want but you must promise me to stay put. Is that clear?” Merlin tried to school his face into seriousness but Arthur just flashed him an adorable baby smile.

“I promi _th_ ,” Arthur lisped. Merlin considered locking the door but decided that the prince was too short to reach the latch and anyway, it was a very heavy door.

When Merlin came back laden with food to find the door wide open and the room empty, he realized he had spoken too soon.

\--

 

“Gaius!” Merlin burst into the apothecary. “Gaius! Oh my god, Gaius –a _tragedy_. Arthur—escaped! But…as a baby and so charming but a prat. A baby prat! Utterly—help, please Gaius, you have to help!” Merlin was positively frantic.

Gaius bore all of this patiently, while he chopped sprigs of parsley for bad breath. He set down his chopping knife and reached out, grabbed Merlin’s wrist and pulled him down onto the bench.

“Again, from the beginning.”

Merlin look so pained and he covered his eyes with one hand. “Yesterday I called Arthur a child and today I went to attend to him and he had turned into an _actual child._ ” He split his fingers to peer at Gaius’ face.

Gaius—wise, patient, unflappable Gaius—looked absolutely gobsmacked. “Say that again?” He asked.

“Yesterday I called Arther a child and today I we--.”

“Are you telling me that His Royal Highness, the crown prince of Camelot, Arthur Pendragon has regressed into…infancy?”

“Well, actually, it’s more like toddlerhood but I suppose that counts…” Merlin massaged his temples.

“Good lord. And you did this?”

“I don’t know that I did! I just woke up and he was a child.” Merlin looked desperate.

Gaius stood and started to pace. “Well, go fetch him. We’ll hide him here until we figure this out. Under no circumstances is King Uther to know about this. You’ll have to deflect him anyway you can.”

“About that,” Merlin stuck a finger in the air. “I was about to say: he’s also missing.” Merlin shut his eyes and covered his ears to brace himself against the wave of Gaius’ ranting.

\--

 

Merlin found himself hunting through the castle for child, while trying to look busy and nonchalant all the same. He managed to fend off several queries about Arthur’s whereabouts, citing hangovers and patrols and drills before he took to dodging people altogether, ducking into corners and under tapestries.

And then by a miracle, he found Arthur in the throne room, otherwise miraculously empty, sitting his father’s giant chair and licking treacle off his little fingers. “There you are!” Merlin all but exploded and Arthur’s face broke into a treacle-y grin. He was also naked, sitting in the puddle of his nightshirt. Merlin tried not to think about how Arthur managed to get into the treacle and then somehow managed to make his way into the throne room.

“You nearly gave me a heart attack, you…you wretched child!” Merlin scolded and strode across the throne room as quick as he could. He pulled the nightshirt around Arthur’s shoulders, ignoring the sticky little fists trying to beat at him and turned to try and sneak off as discreetly as he came.

“Merlin?” Morgana’s voice cut sharply over his shoulder, Gwen at her side. “Merlin, where’s Arthur? Not a glimpse of him all day, the insufferable fool. I requested to see him hours ago.”

Merlin yanked the nightshirt over Arthur’s head and turned his body so he looked like he was carrying a bundle of laundry, one that was desperately trying to wriggle out of his grasp.

“What in the world are you doing?” Morgana tilted her head, trying to catch a glimpse of Merlin’s burden.

Arthur’s head popped free. “I’m here!” He beamed, face smeared with dirt and sugar. One sticky hand clapped down on Merlin’s cheek.

Morgana’s eyes unfocused for a second in shock and then she glared at them both. “What…what are you?”

Gwen steadied her mistress at the elbow. Arthur wrinkled his nose. “I’m Arthur,” he said and leaned his head into the crook of Merlin’s neck while Merlin made crazy, desperate eyes at the two women.

Morgana breathed in sharply. “Good lord. He’s finally done it.”

\--

 

“Tea?” Gwen asked and poured Merlin a cup of the strong brew. The three of them and Gaius sat around the table, eyeing Arthur as dozed across the top of it, sprawled flat on his back, grubby and covered in an oversized nightshirt.

They all took long, contemplative sips.

“Morgana, I’m so sorry, I meant to tell you—“

“This isn’t your fault.” Morgana cut him off and set her cup down.

“But I lied and now it’s done this. I’m going to be put to death, I can feel—“

“None of the sort. This is completely Arthur’s fault. Regretfully,” Morgana said, even though she also sounded like she absolutely expected this of Arthur.

“…what?” Clearly there were not on the same wavelength here.

“And to think he’s made Merlin mind the brat!” Morgana swung her head towards Gwen. “And it’s just like Arthur too—he has the audacity to name his…his bastard after himself!” She pushed a curl out of her face, impatiently.

Gwen rubbed Morgana’s back in sympathy. “At least we know Arthur to be good for keeping a secret, milady.” She seemed long-suffering and yet, amused.

Gaius and Merlin exchanged looks. “Er..,” Merlin started but Gaius held up a hand to silence him.

“Lady Morgana, I believe you misunderstood. What Merlin is trying to say to you here is that child is Arthur.” Gaius stared long and hard at Morgana, whose mouth formed a blood red “Oh”.

Gwen gasped. “Sorcery?” She asked and looked at Merlin who nodded carefully and slowly. “Maybe a curse?”

There was a long pause when Arthur stirred and rolled onto his front, round baby butt sticking in the air. Gwen reached over and very deliberately pulled the night shirt to cover it.

Morgana leaned back in her chair. “Oh. Well then. In that case, it’s not that bad.” She took a sip of her tea.

Merlin choked on his tea. “Not bad!? It’s terrible!”

“You have to look at this from a different perspective, Merlin,” Morgana said, eyebrows tilting in a cunning way. “If Arthur has to grow up all over again, then we have a chance to raise him differently now, do we?” Her smile was absolutely dazzling.

“Needs a mother’s touch, that one.” She nodded towards Arthur and then held out her cup. Gwen refilled it.

Merlin bent to knock his head against the table.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted here: http://midnight-city.livejournal.com/70791.html

“A situation like this requires delicate handling,” Morgana said as she swept through the castle towards the wing where she lived, Merlin and Gwen in her wake. Arthur was still asleep, thank god, his little escapade through the castle had exhausted him and they’d bundled him up and carried him.

“You leave all the talking to me,” Morgana instructed before sending Gwen on a mission to find some appropriate child-sized clothing. “You do nothing but nod and look humble—as best as you can, anyways. We need to paint a picture of Arthur as a victim of this situation. If all goes well, Uther will go on a cathartic little rampage to smoke out the origin of this “curse” and leave little Arthur under my care.”

Merlin nodded dumbly as he set upon extracting Arthur from a tangle of night shirt and put him in the bath.

Arthur was a handful, struggling and splashing Merlin, laughing mirthfully as Merlin shivered and was soaked through. But he was an angel to Gwen, standing perfectly still while she dressed him and brushed through his tawny, duckling head and he rewarded her with a kiss on the cheek. Merlin rolled his eyes and set out lunch for them all.

“No,” Arthur crossed his arms and glared at Merlin but opened his mouth obediently when Morgana smiled at him and accepted the spoonful of thick oatmeal drizzled with honey. He beamed every time Gwen wiped his mouth but scowled at Merlin when he intercepted the wineglass with a cup of milk.

There was a knock on the door and Gwen opened it, letting a servant in. “Lady Morgana, the King approaches.”

“Places, everyone,” Morgana schooled her face into distress and swept Arthur into her arms for a hug. “Now you do as I say, alright, Arthur?” He nodded and burrowed his face into her cleavage. Gwen and Merlin hung back.

“Morgana, what on earth has happened that could be so urgent?” Uther said, cape flowing about him and pooling around his ankles.

“Sire, something dreadful has happened,” Morgana’s face crumpled. Uther looked dismayed. She stepped aside to reveal Arthur at the table, face smeared in oats. “It’s—“

“Good lord, he’s finally done it!” Uther exploded. “Where is he? Who is this child?” His advisers scattered around him, trying to see the matter. “My son has fathered a bastard behind my back!” He staggered and paled.

“No! I mean, sire, don’t fly off before hearing the whole story!” Morgana swanned a little and Merlin thought it was all every comical, really, despite the actual gravity of the situation. “That IS Arthur. He’s under some kind of spell, sire.” She stared at him with huge blue eyes and Uther stared back.

“That’s…that’s Arthur?”

“Yes, look!” Morgana took little Arthur’s chin and tilted it up. Arthur looked up at his father and grabbed Morgana’s wrist. “Father!” He chirped and Uther fell to his knees before him.

“Son…son, what happened to you?”

“I’m _th_ cared, father,” Arthur’s lip wobbled and Merlin would have laughed out loud if Gwen hadn’t pinched his side so hard. They watched as Arthur threw himself into a very bewildered Uther’s arms and a collectively, silent “awww” vibrated through the whole room.

Arthur pulled back from his father’s arms and looked at his face. “You look old.” He observed with a child’s gravity and everyone shifted their eyes to look elsewhere.

“Leave him in my care, sire, and go to find the origin of this curse!” Morgana flared up passionately. Arthur’s eyes watered on cue and he stared up at the King with big blue eyes. Uther flinched as if burned and carefully extracted Arthur from his embrace.

“It would be incredibly unwise in the dead of winter. I shall consult my council. In any case, he seems to be in fair health; perhaps this may still wear off,” Uther stood. “I leave him in your care, Morgana.” He glared at Gwen and Merlin for good measure. His eyes lingered on Merlin perhaps a moment longer and then he swept away, surrounded by a sea of chattering advisors, no doubt to discuss the matter further.

“Well, that was a lot easier than I thought,” Morgana turned and said to Gwen when the door shut behind Uther.

“Your performance was very well,” Gwen said. “You can calm yourself, now, Merlin.” She nudged Merlin who was all but frozen.

Arthur slid off his chair and walked over to Merlin. “Merlin, is father mad? Am I cur _th_ ed?” He said, tugging Merlin’s sleeve.

“Dear god, no,” Merlin got down on one knee. He hugged little Arthur impulsively. “I mean, I hope not.”

“I shall remember this for all my life,” Morgana said, sounding quite satisfied.

\--

 

For someone who seemed not to know what a book was if one attacked him in the dead of night, little Arthur seemed intensely curious about everything and could be preoccupied with large picture books for long periods of time, if it wasn’t for all the questions he kept asking anyone who would listen. Merlin kept him in his room in Gaius’ chambers, unless Morgana wanted him to sit with her and tried to simultaneously keep the prince preoccupied while sneaking in some magic research about how to undo age regression.

“Are there elephants in Camelot?” Arthur would ask. “Are knights very valiant? Can I have a pony? Can I be a knight? Can I be a knight _tomorrow_? Will my father let me be a knight?”

“No,” Merlin said, as he frantically thumbed through his book of magic.

“What do knights do? Can I kill a dragon, Merlin; will you bring me to slay a dragon tomorrow?” Arthur stared at a rather bloody picture of a dragon being gutted by what looked like a young Uther in the pages of one of Gaius’ history books.

Merlin slammed the book shut. _The dragon._ He tickled Arthur’s little belly and watched as Arthur tipped over on the floor and giggled. “You, little sire, are a genius.”

“What’s a geniu _th_?”

“It’s a kind of prat.” Merlin replied. Arthur stared at him, trying to absorb this knowledge.

\--

 

That night, Merlin waited until little Arthur was asleep before he crept down deep below the castle. He’s never gotten the hang of calling on the dragon in a way that wasn’t complete codswallop. _Oh hail mighty dragon beneath the dank castle? Oh vaguely prophetic flying lizard of epic proportions?_

Merlin settled for, “Psssssssssst.”

The dragon flew into view. “Well met in moonlight, young Emrys.” He said, all mythically haughty.

“Yes, well met, etcetera. Look, there is a problem with the Once and Future King,” Merlin tried to sound matter-of-fact and not panicky.

Merlin could feel the dragon raise its lizard-like brow, that is, if it had one. “Of course, the curse of youth. It is mid-winter—I should be hibernating, really, but seeing as I’m cold-blooded and quite large—not to mention it’s boring—“

Merlin coughed to interrupt him. “How do I change him back?”

The dragon eyed him and folded its giant, scaly arms on the rock perch. “What’s to say this isn’t part of the Great Plan?”

“Is it, really!? Because I thought I was to help him—“

“Don’t you think it’s more convenient, however?” The dragon demurred. “You can raise him however you like now; you can work him, manipulate him, and have him grow up into a Grand Plan. Uther has many years before him. There’s time. You can spirit him away, send him to squire to a lord, have him pull a sword from a stone, that sort of thing.”

“Pull a sword from a stone?”

“It doesn’t have to be literally.” There’s a vague leer in the dragon’s tone that Merlin choose to ignore and he tried not to think of all the variations he’d want a sword in his stone, so to speak.

“You are a very unhelpful dragon.” Merlin informed him and turned to leave.

“It’s a test of innocence, Emrys,” the dragon called after him. “A trial of understanding. An exam of tolerance and self-respect.”

Merlin crept back to his quarters. A trial of understanding what? How to care for a child so valuable that people will die for him and whole villages will burn? A child who has to endure trials increasingly difficult as he grows up?

“Merlin?” A tiny voice cuts through the dark. A sob. Merlin hurried and slid into bed. Arthur had sat up, his knees drawn up against his chest.

“What’s wrong?” Merlin asked, lighting a candle with a match, thank you very much.

“I had a nightmare.” Arthur rubbed his eye with the back of one hand. “The castle is very big and dark. I could hear noises. Father said if I’m bad, the dragon under the castle will eat me.” He pronounced it “noitheth” and “thed” and “caththul” and Merlin sighed, reached out to pull the lad on his lap and tucked the tiny blond head under his chin.

“I’ll tell you a secret if you promise to keep it.”

“I will,” Arthur said very seriously, twisting to look up at Merlin.

“Someday, you’re going to be a very strong knight and a good man who loves his people. And you might even slay a dragon or two.” _Hah, eavesdrop on_ that, Merlin thought as hard as he could, just to relay the message to snooping dragon telepathy or whatnot.

“Really?”

“Yes, I know so,” Merlin knew with every fiber of his being that it was absolute truth.

Arthur nodded and crawled out of Merlin’s lap to settle on the bed. Merlin pulled the sheet over then both and let Arthur tuck himself under his arm, closed his eyes and fell asleep.

Merlin listened for sounds of tiny baby snores before lifting a hand and magically snuffing out the candle.

\--

 

The intrusion of sunlight roused Merlin, along with a weight across his chest. He opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling and then studied the long, muscled arm curled over his chest. It was scored with veins and a scar or two, with a dusting of very fine blond hair.

Merlin’s eyes followed the arm and he turned his head right into the face of Arthur: pink-veined eyelids, darker golden eyelashes all fanned out and glued together with sleep, rosy mouth half-opened. Merlin bit back a whimper and then very meticulously slipped out from under Arthur’s arm.

Arthur was in his bed and he was, also, rather naked. The child-sized night shirt he had been wearing was stretched out over his toned back. It would have been comical if it wasn’t so bloody distressing.

Merlin hurried to dress and quietly tried to tip-toe out to call Gaius when Arthur stirred and bolted straight up. The sound plastered Merlin against the wall and he is thankful that he hasn’t frozen anything in mid-air or turned Arthur into a frog at the shock.

“Merlin!” Arthur roared. “What in bloody fuck!?” The crown prince gathered the sheets around his waist and was struggling out of the tiny shift, tearing it open in a way that should not have been so pleasing to Merlin.

Gaius came running in with Gwen. Their faces swung back and forth between prince and servant.

“I demand an explanation!” Arthur said, livid and bright red with embarrassment.

Merlin cleared his throat, “Arfur, I mean—Sire, my lord, don’t take this the wrong way but—“

Arthur spluttered. “What did you call me?”

 

**Epilogue**

 

“ _I_ was a child?” Arthur said later, still in a daze, while Merlin helped him out of his outer robe. “I was a _child?_ ”

“Yes, Arthur, you were a child and you were child for a good few days and Gaius and I and Morgana and Gwen were forced to chase you all over the castle.”

“I’m sure I was a very good child,” Arthur tried to push the memory of his father making fond—and deathly relieved—eyes at him over the breakfast table out of his head. News spread fast but thankfully, winter lethargy still beset most of court and it was a lot less painful than Merlin imagined.

“Once a prat, always a prat—I hardly needed to adjust,” Merlin said as he tucked the robe into a cabinet and brought Arthur a glass of wine. Arthur stared at the goblet in horror and waved it away. Merlin brought him one of water instead, which he accepted. “Adorable lisp.”

Arthur look horrified, no doubt remember long hours of reading texts out loud in order to school the lisp out of him. “What else did I do?” Arthur closed his eyes and braced himself for the horror.

“Nearly gave us all heart attacks. Oh and never thought I would say this but people tripping all over themselves to stuff you with sugar, goodness. My mother would lay a strap on you and make you run around the castle; you were such a portly child,” Merlin made sure to emphasize his tirade with all the right inflections. Forget magic, this was real power: Arthur looking cowed and embarrassed sitting on the edge of the bed, rolling the goblet in his between his hands.

“I could have you put in the stocks!” Arthur scowled.

“At least you wouldn’t have to roll me there,” Merlin said, cheerfully.

Arthur groaned. “Oh no…Morgana knows _everything._ ”

Merlin laughed and pointedly stayed quiet, just hummed in Arthur’s direction and then laughed harder and managed to dodge when Arthur stuck his foot out to try and trip him.

\- END -


End file.
